


Hiraeth

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Series: The Pacemakers [13]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alien Culture, Angst and Feels, Bitterness, Canon Compliant, Cultural Appropriation, Culture Shock, Homesickness, Languages and Linguistics, Loneliness, Mid-Canon, Restlessness, Sacrifice, Sad Ending, Starvation, War, Wistful, Xenophobia, hopelessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23091634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: Hiraeth: A deep longing for something, missing home. Missing a time, an era, a person - including homesickness for what may not exist any longer.Huffer hates every inch of this rock the humans call home. In his mind, "home" is the life he and the others shared before darkness fell.
Series: The Pacemakers [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/324806
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Hiraeth

**Author's Note:**

> Pace - A company or herd of mules; in my headcanon, a family of Minibots; also a traditional expectation and an honor among Minibots who form one.
> 
> One/"Unuceim" - the first Minibot to agree to join the proposer's pace.
> 
> Culumexian - the form of Cybertronian spoken by residents of Culumex, the Minibot city on Cybertron.

Huffer hated every inch of this rock the humans called home. He hated the ground, the dust that scraped and caught in the seams of his feet. He loathed the helm-aches brought on by the heady stench of those stemmed organisms— _plants, trees_ —and the oversaturated glare of the sun. Every time he dared to venture out, the pliant, mushy, organic world closed in on him. He was Earth’s hostage, unable to vent until he felt the _Ark_ ’s familiar metal under his feet again.

Why were the other Autobots so quick to forget? The war they fought was for _Cybertron_ , not Earth. Earth was meant to be nothing but a pit stop! It wasn’t a joy that they landed here. They weren’t supposed to be Earth's newest pilgrim settlers; they were trapped!

Homesickness meant so much more than the house he and his pace had lived in. “Home” meant the life they had before darkness fell. During the relentless loop of battle, repairs, battle, repairs and battle, “ _I want to go home_ ” meant a walk down the streets of Nexus in peace, lulled by the hum of the city generators as the sun set. It meant clean air, clear of cannon fire and blaster smoke. It meant a lazy night in to spend swaddled in thermal tarps, watching the basketrek game.

When the energon supply dwindled, when Huffer and his own were quietly coerced to go hungry so the more important officers could have their share, “ _I want to go home_ ” meant elite high-grade and a chrome cake with the works. It meant a pack of rust sticks, a heap of silicon wafers, servo salad—anything with more substance than thin, insipid low-grade.

When Earth culture escaped him, stalled him, mocked him for his ignorance, “ _I want to go home_ ” meant everything ingrained in his soul. It meant anointments in oil, dressings of filigree, gold leaf, chain links and glass, and a family crest. It meant passion projects, mesh and metal sculptures tenderly shaped just for the joy of knowing that Primus had blessed a mech’s hands with the need to _create_. It was every vow, every blessing, every time one of his pace-mates slipped into their home tongue and called him “ **unuceim** ”.

They spoke in Culumexian so rarely now. When he first noticed their use dwindling, Huffer wanted to think of it as preservation, a necessary secret—not for the larger frames’ optics and audials, not for the humans’ eyes and ears. Instead the Earth slang that infiltrated their dialect became a poison.

“ _I want to go home_ ” meant **:Iuow iynm mow guo uowme:**

On the tail end of a grueling battle, he had once heard Prime call the _Ark_ home. (How soon even he forgot.) Perhaps his words had been a sorry attempt to boost morale or inspire effort, coax that last rev of their engines out of them in their weariness. “Autobots, let’s roll for home.”

Huffer had indeed followed him, but the dust churning around his wheels always reminded him: he could never roll far enough.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been so long since I've written for my favorite pace. I've missed them <3  
> I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to drop a comment and tell me what you thought!


End file.
